


this ain't the way it's supposed to be

by VickyVicarious



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, Episode: s02e16 Blood Must Have Blood Part II, F/M, First Kiss, Inspired by Art, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VickyVicarious/pseuds/VickyVicarious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rewrite of the Bellarke farewell scene, based on a fanart of them kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this ain't the way it's supposed to be

**Author's Note:**

> The gorgeous fanart this was inspired by can be found [here](http://vickyvicarious.tumblr.com/post/125645920411/freddiemclair-may-we-meet-again-im-all-for). 
> 
> The title is a line from the song playing during that scene: 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door' done by Raign.

He knows the moment he sees her hugging Monty.

He  _realizes_ in that instant, what she is going to do, and Bellamy can feel his breath wanting to waver as he walks back to her (because she isn’t coming any closer). He can’t help but watch Monty, walking into camp all curled into himself, and wonders how long he has known. What Clarke has told him, on that aching trek back from Mount Weather.

“I think we deserve a drink,” Bellamy tells Clarke, going to a lot of effort not to let his voice shake. Not to look at her too closely. Instead he looks back at the Ark, at his home, at his people, at what they’ve done so much to save. To  _keep_.

“Have one for me,” Clarke says, and Bellamy expected this but it still feels like she just floated him.

Not any kind of earthly violence.  _Floated_ him, cut him loose and left him to drift and die alone.

“Hey,” he says, the word rough and low in the back of his throat. He keeps his mouth tight, his eyes on the Ark, tells her, “We can get through this.”

This time there’s a long pause before Clarke speaks.

“I’m not going in,” she confesses, voice wavering a little, and he  _knows already_ , but the words shake him out of control regardless, he can’t pretend composure anymore, he can’t-

“Clarke,” he says, breath shuddering out his lips and he feels desperate, he has to look at her. “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you,” Bellamy says, looking her straight in the eye and  _willing_  her to remember, to understand.

She does. He can see it her eyes, she remembers, she knows, and he puts everything he can into telling her, “You’re forgiven.”

He could recite the rest of the speech by heart. A part of him  _wants_  to, but Clarke already knows what he’s telling her and - she looks away. It’s a rejection clear as anything.

Any and all speeches vanish from his mind. All that’s left is to simply ask (no, he can’t even pretend it’s not begging): “Please come inside.”

Clarke looks at the Ark with such longing he knows she won’t be coming inside. He already knows. It’s obvious, this look is her goodbye, and he can feel himself shaking.

“Take care of them for me,” she asks, turning back.

“ _Clarke_ ,” rips itself out of his throat, and Bellamy’s - collapsing, he  _knows_  but he can’t stop trying, he can’t stop himself because he needs her here. It’s as simple as that - he  _needs her here_.

“No, seeing their faces every day, is just gonna remind me of what I did to get them here,” Clarke cuts him off, voice shaking. And it’s obvious, how this is tearing her apart inside, it’s been obvious, but she doesn’t understand.

“What  _we_  did,” Bellamy reminds her (and he’s straining for her to get it), “you don’t have to do this alone.”

You don’t have to forgive yourself, Clarke (he wants to tell her). I haven’t. I won’t, ever. What I’ve done will always be with me, and it will be the same for you but you can’t stop. Don’t you see, we need you. Clarke (he wants to tell her),  _I need you_. Let me share this with you. I’ll help you. Please. Don’t go,  _please_.

He’s breathless, can’t speak a word.

“I bear it,” Clarke says with tears shining in her eyes, unshed; “so they don’t have to.”

Bellamy gets it then, with the same crystal clarity that he understood she was leaving: Clarke needs this. This isn’t about everyone else, no matter what she says. That’s still valid, maybe, but it’s not  _why_  - the simple truth is that Clarke needs this. She can’t be here, she needs to leave, it’s something she has to do for herself, and he can’t stop her.

No, he’s not even going to try. Not anymore. He won’t tell her that he and Monty made the same choice, made it happen as much as she did, bear the same weight. He won’t tell her that by leaving she isn’t saving anyone because she  _is_ , he can see it now, she’s saving herself. She’s decided that this is the only thing she can do to try and save herself.

It doesn’t matter how much Bellamy thinks that is utter  _bullshit_ , how much he needs her here - this is about Clarke, not him. And she doesn’t need him. She needs this: leaving.

“Where are you gonna go?” he asks her.

Clarke looks down for a moment before she answers, looks so utterly  _lost_  it’s no surprise when she admits, with a hopeless little edge of a smile (or maybe a sob): “I don’t know.”

Bellamy looks at her and feels just as lost. Feels wrecked,  _desperate_ , shaken completely out of control, and when she steps forward, grabbing onto his arms and leaning up to kiss his cheek, he turns into it.

If this is goodbye (and  _this is goodbye_ , he’s known from the start), he isn’t going to stop himself anymore. So Bellamy turns his head, catches her lips against his and closes his eyes when he feels her hand clutch harder on his arm, her lips tremble against his before pushing back harder.

 _No_ , he thinks pitifully, and reaches his hand up to curl his fingers tight into her hair, and presses his lips hard and fierce against hers and doesn’t want to ever let go when he feels her hand sliding up his shoulder. It trembles up his neck, slips too gently behind his head and slowly holds him there. She’s gripping too hard, too, she’s kissing back too and not letting go and he wants to tell her  _see? this is how it should be, Clarke_  but this is a goodbye and even as he’s thinking that she breaks the kiss.

Breaks him a little too, a little more, when she doesn’t pull away completely but just presses herself closer into a fierce clutching hug. Her chin is pressed over his shoulder and he can feel her body warm against is, her breath juddering past his ear. Bellamy opens his eyes and stares at the ground as he presses his cheek to her head and hugs her back, closer and longer than they have ever been.

Clarke sniffs a little.

“May we meet again,” she says - but just clings  _closer_ , for one long terrible second, before finally pushing herself away. She smiles at him, before she walks away. Maybe that’s the most terrible part.

Bellamy stands still, head hanging, arms dropped at his sides where she left them, for a long moment. His breathing is heavy, out of control and he knows he is only seconds away from crying - he  _looks_  at her, one sharp desperate jerk of the head to stare at her back and he wants to run after her, tug her close again, into another kiss, a hug, anything that doesn’t let go.

But Clarke needs to leave.

He will let her, no matter how much it hurts (how helpless and lost and  _angry_  it makes him, how betrayed he feels that she would do this-). He couldn’t stop her, and right now, his people need him. He can’t be staring after her anymore.

_Still -_

“May we meet again,” Bellamy says, rough, and walks through the gates without looking back again.

He’s the last one through. The guards shut them behind him.


End file.
